


Successful Operation

by RoofDog



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Moira O'Deorain, Gen, Internal Monologue, No Dialogue, Somnophilia, Sort Of, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoofDog/pseuds/RoofDog
Summary: Moira receives the opportunity of a lifetime.





	Successful Operation

When he came to her he was but glass; shattered, each subsequent piece more jagged than the last. Unrecognizable but able to be melted down and recast into anything she so desired, imagination and skill permitting. Yet what did she desire to mold him into? The choices were seemingly infinite the potential endless but she settled on one. A weapon. An asset to her group's operations.

Operation. She would need to convince her colleagues that what she intended to attempt was the right choice. She could lead with appealing to empathy and altruism. He was dying and needed to be saved. It was urgent, no time for bureaucratic delays. What else? By arming him with weapons integrated into his very body he would an invaluable addition to the force. With no other prospects and a need for ongoing treatment, he'd have to stay with them. It was almost charitable, to take a misguided soul such as him and give another chance at life. He'd be secure, and given tutelage by the best and most qualified soldiers, doctors, and scientists the world had to offer. Yes that would do nicely.

As for the weaponized aspect, well, again he would be an excellent benefit for all. It could easily be arranged for him to evade the limelight in order to prevent bad publicity and avoid civilian scrutiny. How could they even begin to understand the obligation she had to furthering the human race? There was no time to trifle with petty matters of ethics, especially not with the ignorant general populace. Let them not forget that in a world that seems to actively try to kill its inhabitants, being armed should not be criticized. Oh, and it would look cool. She recognized that this reason could never stand in her argument, but it stuck in her mind. With the extent of his injuries, his prostheses could never resemble his fellow man. So why not make it sleek, appealing. Besides, not all art need be conceptually driven. Aesthetics were of as much import. How many wandering souls search for beauty, consciously or not? A picturesque sunset, the petrichor of a long belated summer rain, an arrangement of sounds into a favorite song, or a lovely painting comprised of precise careful strokes. Each piece a love letter from the universe to itself.

And what a masterpiece he would be. She had been waiting for a chance such as this. Designing, planning, scheming, and most of all waiting. Soliciting volunteers for this type of modification would surely earn her a worse reputation than that which had already followed her. She could not risk being terminated for the umpteenth time. Given the extensive procedure she couldn't operate on herself, nor did she want such changes. So she waited and so she received.

One obstacle still obstructed her path. An obstacle by the name of Angela Ziegler. Any mention of the name never failed to make her grimace. But here she was, in training to become an Academy Award Actress. Angela already knew her shady past and unwavering dedication to her work. The only chance at convincing was to be personable. To engage her intellectually and socially. Make small talk, share a coffee, spend some time together outside of working hours. None of it came too easily to her but she did what she must to get what she wanted. Maybe sometime down the line it would stop being acting and maybe that had already started to happen. Having a close associate that matched her caliber was rare after all. As it was right now her clever ruse had worked, as it usually did. Her duplicitous nature made executing such things a mere triviality. Indeed, her entire life work, the means she used to accomplish that work, even her own character seemed to be some grand homage to Machiavelli himself.

In the end she got what she so desired. The operation a success, the patient was left to recuperate under her watchful eye. Late into night and into the early hours of the morning, she sidled up to her unconscious specimen. She crouched down next to his bed and lay the side of her face onto his. Her long nails traced circles on his stitched skin.

 

“Now you are beautiful. Now you are mine.”

 

 

 


End file.
